


family matters

by thebrotherswholoved



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Adoption, Fluff, Foster Care, M/M, TW: Mention of Violence, TW: drug use, Triggers, Wincest - Freeform, dads, expanding family, tw: abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrotherswholoved/pseuds/thebrotherswholoved
Summary: There’s something missing in Sam and Dean Winchester’s lives. Finally, after a year of searching hand-in-hand for the missing piece to their puzzle, they’ve found them.





	family matters

**Author's Note:**

> There is a section in this work that details some upsetting content. These themes are used to give background information on the character(s), but are completely optional and don’t contribute to the storyline in any major way.
> 
> The aforementioned details are marked and labeled in the text and include the warnings listed in the tags.

It's been a year since either of them have shot a gun, two years since either have been hunting.

 

There's no desire, no want, no need—no craving for cocking, loading, and pulling the trigger like there used to be. No drive to slice open their palms to bleed into a spell or to machete a vamp's head off. The weapons in the attic have no use anymore, dust coated and locked away behind three padlocks all with the same combination.

 

No, it's not 11-02-83. It's 05-21-17, the day of their wedding. Not a white wedding, Dean wouldn't shimmy into a suit—but it was special, just them two at a courthouse in Massachusetts.

 

The only desire they have is each other.

 

One spring morning while the air is still thick with dew, Sam is woken up by his husband kissing his jawline just for the sensation of his overgrown beard. He responds by ruffling a tuft of grey-golden hair atop his older brother's head. The dull ache of nervousness clouds the room and suffocates their moment together, Dean nearly trembling under Sam's arm.

 

They've planned this day for ten months now, but each day seemed to rocket by them and now they're here, breathless and unprepared. Physically, yeah, they have been prepared for months; but emotionally? Mentally?

 

Dean's heart pounds with throbs of excitement and terror, a tremulous cycle that makes him want to vomit. He knows Sam's ready for this, he's never doubted that, but is he?

 

The younger brother notes his slight hyperventilation and rolls his less-toned frame onto his chest.

 

"You have nothing to worry about, I promise. They'll love you. They already do. You saw them last weekend. Stop worrying, jerk."

 

The middle aged blonde bites his lower lip and nods, a surge of doubt clogging his airway.

 

"Bitch," he manages a smile. "Alright, which tie should I wear?"

 

 **—s.w.** **+** **d.w.—**

 

Before they can even comprehend that they're not in their bedroom anymore, Dean is pulled from his thoughts by Sam's foot tapping against the puzzle-piece-themed carpet below their chairs. His hand moves from his brother's thigh to his knee, stopping the tremors and sending waves of warmth and security up their spines.

 

Sam opens his mouth to say something but they're interrupted by the door clicking open and soft, trepid footsteps trailing into the doorway but travelling no further.

 

Dean feels like he's going to combust, trying to blink away this lucid dream, his greatest dream, to get back to his gun-cleaning session in a tumbledown motel room. He cries with joy when he can't travel to a place that doesn't exist.

 

Bright brown eyes glimmer up at them when they stand up, hands linked in anxiety and anticipation. Tears are building up in their eyes and Dean fears that his hand will begin bleeding if Sam doesn't stop digging his fingernails into the soft flesh.

 

The girl is wearing a white cardigan sweater over a navy dress that compliments her dark complexion and deep eyes. The baby blue ribbon in her hair makes her black-ish kinky hair bounce whenever she walks, and it brings out her beautiful brown eyes. Beside her is a little boy, obviously younger, with slightly lighter eyes and almost dark brown hair. The two children have the same cheekbones, button noses, and fear in the corners of their dimples.

 

Dean can't decide who's clutching whose hand tighter: the little boy or Sam.

 

Eventually Sam decides that they're not getting anywhere in this suffocating silence and the social worker is staring them down with a plastic smile on her face while the children try to telepathically untie their shoelaces. He squats down in front of them, still far taller than the eleven year old girl, and juts out his hand in an awkward motion that just gives away his anxiety.

 

He remembers the day back in March when a social worker and their adoption agency representative met with them after they formally expressed interest in the Weiner children. The rain trickling down the windowpane in a crescendo with their tears at the story they were told. These kids—these amazing, beautiful, perfect kids—had been through literal hell.

 

** Trigger Warning Begins HERE: **

The girl’s middle-aged biological father tried to make her birth mother lose the pregnancy through violence and left after the nineteen year old’s water broke, leaving her in an empty house. Cut to eight years later, when her mother married a man, and after nine months she became a sister, but the excitement was short lived. She was the one who held that six month old baby boy in her arms when the meth lab their mother and (step)father built had exploded. She overheard the coroners report: if her mother and stepfather didn’t die in the blast they were already dead due to a PCP and meth overdose. The devastation was dulled by the engine of a car driving them to a home that wasn’t their own. 

**Trigger Warning Ends HERE :)**

 

To his surprise, the girl doesn't shake his hand. He's watched plenty of documentaries on adoption and the kids are either too quiet or just plain upset at life: that's a generalisation, but he'd be lying if he said he's not expecting the worst case scenario. He stands up to brace for insults or a punch, but it never comes. No, this girl doesn't meet his eyes at all but opens up her arms, shaky limbs wrapping around his neck. It's not a clingy hug—it's more of a testing-the-waters hug.

 

He doesn't care what it is, it's all he needs to start crying. Still hugging him, she says something that makes the whole room collapse around them.

 

"You don't have to take us. We know how this ends, it's okay."

 

Sam will never get used to that tiny, meek, pained voice. They've met these kids ten times since January and he already feels like a father. Last weekend Dean insisted they go to an arcade, and he's never seen their eyes light up like that. When that vivacious young girl won at Space Invaders, she cheered so loud and fully hugged Dean. Sam got the young boy a fudge sundae and learned that he loves strawberry ice cream. He knows that they've slept next to each other for years in various foster homes and so he made Dean make bunk beds by hand. He already loves them. It'd break his heart to give them up, but he just wants what's best for them.

 

He inhales and takes her too-frail hand in his. "Dean and I...we want to bring you both into our family more than anything else. But, it's your decision."

 

She thinks for a minute and then shifts her eyes to her brother, who's perfectly content playing with Dean and the toy Impala car he brought for him. Dean's absentmindedly ruffling the thick, coarse hair on the boy's head, grinning like a fool. Her lips twitch a bit as though she wants to smile—and then she does.

 

"Can...can we go home? I mean—to your house, I mean...sorry," she fumbles with the hem of her dress. Sam's heart melts and he wants to start sobbing, but he doesn't want to scare them.

 

Dean's looking at them with wide eyes having heard their exchange. The soft " _vroom_ _vroom_ " of the shy four year old is the only sound to be heard.

 

They look up at Cindy, the kids' social worker, and she grins. "You're already considered foster parents by the state. I'll set a date for family court and you can officially adopt them, if that's alright."

 

Both boys nod their heads in perfect, eager sync, but Sam stops to look down at the preteen who's trying to decide how much space she should leave between them. She looks at Cindy and nods just as furiously, making Dean choke back a sob.

 

Not only do they want them, but the kids want them just as much. That's every parent's greatest dream.

 

 _Parent_.

 

He feels a tiny hand gripping his and sees four year old Cole beaming a gap-toothed smile up at him. When he stretches his arms up, opening and closing his hands asking to be picked up, Sam does so and he yawns. It's been a big day for all of them.

 

Dean is straitening Honor's ribbon in her hair and finds a knot. She looks up at him, scared of something, and he chuckles and poofs the curly hair in his hands.

 

"You're gonna have to teach me to do your hair, kiddo." He helps her put her coat on over her cardigan. "Even if it takes a million YouTube tutorials, I'm gonna get the hang of it, I swear."

 

The twelve year old laughs, and its music to both dads' ears. _Dads_. They're fucking _dads_.

 

They thank Cindy and begin their walk to the parking lot where Baby is and Sam is relieved to have a use for the car seat he bought for Cole, due to his small frame. The boy is almost asleep in Sam's arms but stirs when he clasps the seatbelt around his waist. In his stupor Cole mumbles something Sam and Dean will never forget.

 

"We goin' home, dads?"

 

It takes every fiber of both of their beings to not start bawling right then and there, but somehow they manage not to. Sam nods and ruffles his hair before closing the car door. Making his way to the passenger side he watches as Dean opens the door for Honor and helps her into the car earning a 'thank you' and, upon closing her door, moves to open the door for his husband.

 

The family settles into Baby and when Dean looks over his shoulder to back out, he realizes that both kids are asleep. The engine rumbles a bit and the boys kiss, knowing that they've created lives for themselves and these two beautiful children.

 

"You're gonna be a great dad, Jerk."

 

"You'll be the best papa, Bitch."


End file.
